


Eleven Fifty-Two PM

by qtjimin (orphan_account)



Category: Super Junior
Genre: No idea why I started this but it’s finally done, TW: Self harm mentions, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, yeteuk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:21:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23995192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/qtjimin
Summary: Two lonely teens finally find each other in the dark world. Unfortunately for them, their similarities lead to their demise. |  © .qtjimin
Kudos: 4





	Eleven Fifty-Two PM

**Scars on his thighs**

What kind of man cut scars into his thighs? 

What kind of boy drives a knife through his skin? Why would anyone do that. 

Well, for starters, it hides under his shorts well. Perhaps he likes the feeling, too. But one day, he laid his eyes on someone who changed his mind.

Someone who made him feel better than the feeling of knives on his skin. 

Someone who might eventually tell him to stop.

But he had to approach him first. He is not an outgoing guy. He doesn’t have friends. But _he_ was intriguing. Seemed innocent, smart, talented, handsome; almost nothing like himself. He answered almost every question perfectly and always looked so cute when embarrassed. But, he didn’t talk much either. And, the feeling of just admiring him from a distance made him feel creepy sometimes. But maybe he was creepy too. You never know. 

He keeps telling himself he’ll talk to him tomorrow… but tomorrow never comes. 

Sometimes he talks to himself. To remind himself of what his own voice sounds like. He believes that how his voice sounds doesn’t matter, though. It’s the words you choose to say. But even that makes him feel depressed. It makes him feel like running knives into his thighs.

Tomorrow barely ceases to arrive as he wakes up exhausted. All night crying had made him wonder which date he should circle on the calendar to mark his death later this month.

But then he remembered him. He looked so lonely sometimes. He could use a friend, maybe. But which man would befriend an immature, lonely, poor boy who takes ‘joy’ in running knives on his skin? He’s probably very busy.

Tomorrow never comes.

He sits alone again. In the stairs as usual. Not eating and looking at the ground. Waiting for the bell to ring like every other day. 

A girl tries to push him down. But it doesn’t matter to him. He doesn’t look at her. He doesn’t know her name. She calls him a few names. He doesn’t care.

_“You’re a waste of space!”_

Wow, he’d never heard that one before. He apologised to her and moved off to walk around the school. He sees that other guy again. The one whose eyes he can feel on him from time to time. He looks up briefly at him before putting his head back down into his food. He’s cute when he’s bashful. Maybe he’ll approach him one day,

but tomorrow never comes.

Today, he came into class with a scar on his cheek. It could be from a cat or something else, but it seemed off to just assume that. Today, tomorrow came. He decided to catch him before he could leave the class. 

Thankful for the teachers leaving and no other classes in the room for this period, his heart was thumping in his chest. What would anyone want with a tormented boy like him? A boy who cups himself with pocket knives and sleeps like it’s his job? He had to admit, he liked his attention when he noticed him watching. But this was weird. He was a lot more sensitive than anyone could imagine. His senior now having pulled him over, he felt like a lost, scared, newborn kitten seeing a great giant tiger for the first and last time of its pathetic life.

“Jongwoon,” he started. “is that your name?” he asked again. “I... I was just wondering if you were alright.” 

Jongwoons bottom lip was quivering, he could burst into tears at any given second. But he managed to say, “I’m fine,” shakily, he continued on, “were you worried?” he asked.

“You seem sad.” he said calmly. “Is there anything I could do for you?” he frowned.

Jongwoons tears couldn’t be held back any longer, he was choked up in asking him why he cared. Jeongsu admitted he was ‘just feeling generous’, and ‘maybe it’s my job to look out for whose younger than me’, but Jongwoon only responded in apologizing for his tears and dismissing himself out of the room.

Tomorrow is better off not coming.

He didn’t show up for classes today.

He didn’t show up for classes today.

He didn’t show up for classes today.

What a fucking weirdo.

He didn’t show up.

He— 

He apologised to Jeongsu again. And admitted to him privately that he had accidentally swung a knife against his cheek. Jeongsu wanted to ask how that would happen, but he felt oddly guilty. Not knowing what to say, he held Jongwoons hand in front of him and leaned on it. Jongwoon didn’t seem to mind it, but he did find it a bit strange. Jeongsu stayed like that a few seconds. A few seconds is what it took for him to almost have himself crying on Jongwoons fist. When Jongwoon saw his face, he realised Jeongsu was not the busy and intimidating tiger he’d thought him out to be. Seeing him cry made him want to cry too. But he didn’t. Jongwoon liked pain a lot. At first he didn’t, but eventually he did. That wasn’t something Jeongsu should need to know or care about. So

Tomorrow shouldn’t come anymore.

Jeongsu had given Jongwoon his number to call him over the weekend if he wanted to talk or anything. Jeongsu had no idea who the fuck he thought he was. He couldn’t look at knives without getting dizzy since realising Jongwoon was the same as him. He didn’t want Jongwoon to realise he was the same as him, though. It was almost selfish of him after seeing the effect it had on himself, but he couldn’t take it. It had become so embarrassing. 

At dinner, a huge knife was put onto his plate. He shivered and got asked ‘what’s wrong’, but he didn’t answer. He wanted to ask though, ‘why not order pizza like every other Friday night?’, but to question anything was too risky. 

Halfway through his meal, the phone on the wall rang. He didn’t get to answer, but was told it was just ‘some fuckin’ random crybaby’. Which really rubbed him the wrong way, but it was too risky to ask anything or to go call back now. He had a strong feeling it was Jongwoon. His gut told him it was Jongwoon and that Jongwoon was not safe. 

He stalled on calling Jongwoon back a while. He stalled with a nervous feeling in his stomach the entire time. He would pray for Jongwoon while doing the dishes, and immediately after, run to the phone. 

Not caring who is with him.

Not caring his hands are wet.

Not caring about anything but Jongwoon.

Jongwoon who deserved better than him already.

Jongwoon who deserved praise, love, happiness and someone to rely on.

Jeongsu would never forgive himself if he hadn’t given Jongwoon at least one of those.

“It’s so scary...” Jongwoon answered.

“Are you okay?!” Jeongsu asked, panicked.

“I think I won’t see you again, but, that’s fi—“

“Call the police.” Jeongsu demanded. “Hang up and call the police, please!”

Jeongsu was asked who he was speaking to, but he didn’t answer. He hung up on Jongwoon and ran out the door. He didn’t know exactly where Jongwoon lived, but he knew a few details. He was determined to get to Jongwoon’s location as the police would arrive. He was lucky to have pocket money. Breathing heavily from running, he’d boarded the empty bus, feeling very sick. 

When he got off, he still felt far from Jongwoon. It was quiet up here. Jeongsu felt hopeless. He’d run to a tree in the nearby park and leaned over to take a breath. A car alarm in the distance went off as he felt the scars on his thighs through the fabric of his shorts. It made him feel so sick that he fainted.

**Eleven Fifty-Two**

Jeongsu woke up. All he can remember is Jongwoon. He slowly gets up from tree, frustrated with himself for allowing himself to pass out in such a dire situation. Now there’s grass on him and grass marks on his legs, but he doesn’t bother with them. He runs again.

When he finally reached the area where Jongwoon lived, it seemed he was already gone. All he could say was ‘fuck’. He looked up at the stars, ‘fuck’. He kicked a tree, ‘FUCK’. Jeongsu sat down on the sidewalk curb and sobbed into his palms. That might be the last time he saw Jongwoon again. The only person who would bother with him. And him being his. If Jongwoon was no longer with him, he’d promised between him and God he’d keep living for him.

The rest of the weekend was spent with nothing but the horrors of reality and the dread of anxiety. Jeongsu kept calling Jongwoons number when given the chance but there was never an answer. For the first time since primary school, Jeongsu couldn’t wait to go. Even if Jongwoon wasn’t there, he knew he could ask the secretary. He wasn’t the best at speaking, but he was determined to do this. 

When Monday finally came, Jeongsu woke up early. He did his best to stay positive about the situation, but something didn’t feel right. Barely swallowing his fear, he marched into the school.

“You’re here early!” The secretary cheerfully commented.

Jeongsu didn’t bother. Instead he mustered up all his confidence and asked, “Can you check if Kim Jongwoon will be here today?”

The secretary was intimidated by Jeongsu. The poor kid seemed horribly serious. She checked without question, she even called the numbers provided to reach Jongwoon’s parents, but there was no answer. Timidly, she apologised. 

Four months later, Jeongsu wakes up from a nightmare. He saw Jongwoon, his old friend, whose existence in his life was so short-lived it itself felt like a nightmare. In the dream, they only hugged before Jongwoon melted as if he were a wax figure. Jeongsu gave up on searching Jongwoon’s name on local-everything a few months ago, and this particular dream had made him feel bad about it. It had been said Jongwoon transferred schools, but the night before his disappearance was too strange for it to be true. 

But Jeongsu would have to accept if he’d ever seen Jongwoon again, he might’ve already forgotten him. Just as he did months ago. 

Tomorrow would never come.


End file.
